Learning Curve
by anhedral
Summary: Toothless is down but not out. Fear not, our favourite dragon has a cunning plan to regain the skies. It involves Hiccup. What could possibly go wrong?
1. Impatience

My first effort here, and my first fiction since school. That's a good while ago now. I wanted to write a Toothless-with-flaws. Candid reviews, please.

**Impatience**

I could hardly believe the changes since the despair of my first lonely days trapped in the cove, flightless and doomed to starvation and madness.

I looked forward to each sunrise now. We had started to hit our stride with the tethered flights, Hiccup finally beginning to see what he needed to do to control my tail fin properly. He was improving steadily, though I knew it would be some time before he could sense it as instinctively as a dragon would. For my own part, my injuries were healing. With each session I could feel the muscle tone returning to my wings; they ached, but in a good way. I could spread my wings to their full span easily now.

Training. Repetition, repetition. A tweak of the fin here to induce a stall, finer control to bank or to help me climb. Unfortunately, the only way for Hiccup to pick it up was by trial and error. It all seemed so basic and slow, but I fought back my impatience, trying to focus instead on Hiccup's learning. Little by little, our crashes became rarer; occasionally Hiccup would even return to his father's house unbruised. In moments of distraction I would dream of our first free flight. The expectation of getting back into the air filled me with joy and trepidation in equal measure, but I knew that when the moment came I would not hesitate. This Night Fury had been grounded for too long.

We were in the cove now, just back from another trek to the village for tools and yet more leather - our intense training schedule was consuming materials at an alarming rate. As before we left it until well after dark, and together we slipped through the shadows undetected. Bags full, we retreated to our makeshift home, tired but contented. I quickly got the fire going with the smallest pulse of plasma, and we settled down to a late meal. Hiccup always brought me the very best fresh cod - I tried to show my appreciation by nuzzling him, but he just laughed good-humouredly and made as if to push my face away. Then, with a contented sigh, he leaned back against my shoulder and proceeded to ruin his own lovely fish, as he always did, by subjecting it to the flames in the process he calls 'cooking'. Only after removing most of the goodness did he begin to feed. No wonder he's so skinny.

Hiccup pulled out his notebook and, by the firelight, started to draw the latest modifications that he would make to our gear. I knew he wouldn't stop until it was perfect. Saddle chafing a little here, sir? We can fix that. Leg ring a bit loose? Just give me an hour at the forge.

We have been on a strange journey, this unlikely human and I. Over and again I recall that first day. Why didn't I kill him when I had the chance? It would have been just; after all, he had robbed me of my flight, the very essence of every dragon. To have it removed was the fate each of us most feared. Dragons diminished in this way don't normally live for very long. Insanity is inevitable; ones end depends simply upon the quickness of the madness. Some wander in body and mind almost immediately, drifting away to a lonely death, deprived of all companionship. Others retain their wits for long enough to beg a quick end by fellow dragons. These lucky ones at least get to say their last goodbyes, surrounded by those whom they love. Little wonder then that, as often as not, the nightmares our kittens conjure in their young imaginings involve hurt to their wings. That, or something with humans in the mix. In the present war, of course, they often amount to the same thing.

But I had not killed Hiccup. He had brought me to the ground, only to cut my bonds. In a moment of lunacy I had let him live, and afterwards he had offered me his trust, his food, and amazingly, a chance to regain my flight. The strangest union was building between us, and I was completely unprepared for the strength of its hold over me. While the nature of the motivation that stayed my flame and my bite still puzzled me, I knew that I was grateful for my restraint. This feeble biped had gotten under my skin and somehow, deep down, I already knew that I'd never dig him out.

I tried to think it through, tried to convince my own foolish self that to have killed him would have been a wasted opportunity to learn about his species. But dragons are not so gullible. Despite the long enmity between our kinds, a connection had sparked between us that day. Though it hurt my pride to admit it, I knew that killing Hiccup had never really been an option for me at all.

Amazingly, it seems he feels the same way about me.

I know this because, if there's one thing my human likes more than making contraptions, it's talking. Often, to a fault. Oh my belly scales, the babble. Anything and everything that's on his mind. Just as well I'm a good listener, or I really would have eaten him by now.

Ironically, these days, it was mostly communication that was on Hiccup's mind.

"My dad? Please, let's just not go there. But if I killed a dragon, everything would be OK."

"I can talk to you, but how can I talk with her? I really want to, but the words just seem to get stuck. And the whole axe thing really doesn't help at all."

And on it went. I stared at him, crooning but confounded.

_::Talk with me, then. I want to. Can't you?::_

But instead he just looked back at me blankly, unblinking, not understanding, and then stared at his boots. His mood swung further to dejection.

"Toothless… I think you can hear me. Something tells me you can understand me. Why can't I..."

I decided to stop him right there with a definitive lick right up the side of his face.

"Yeeeaaach! Fish breath! You... useless reptile!"

His grin was back, and I returned it, teeth retracted and extra cute. But the truth was, as frustrating as our one-way banter was for Hiccup, I was more worried for myself.

Our learning curve was too gradual. My return to the air was taking too long.

Already I could feel the first tendrils of madness probing my mind, searching for weak spots, seeking out crevices where they might settle and grow. I couldn't concentrate; my memories were becoming just a bit hazy around the edges. I had seen the signs in too many of my fellows for there to be any mistake: my time was running out, and fast. Though I took care to disguise it from Hiccup, I was becoming desperate.

This evening then, as I fretted and my human talked and sketched, we both lost track of time. At last the embers faded, and as I glanced up at the sky there it was: the dark loom of an approaching storm. But at that moment a crazy idea starting to push its way through, and I hesitated. Suddenly, Hiccup startled.

"Toothless, I must get back!"

However, at this moment the gods decided to break open the sky. As the hail pelted us and the lightning flashed, we dashed back to our shelter.

Loafing safely under cover, I quietly digested my meal. In my mind, however, possibilities and repercussions roiled round and around. What was I thinking? What was I risking? The course of action I was considering had never, to my knowledge, been attempted before. If successful, it could save me. If it failed, Hiccup and I could both wind up damaged. Or dead.

If I went ahead, I would do so knowing and accepting the risks. But I had no way of offering Hiccup the choice. To act alone would be the worst abuse of the trust that he had placed in me. Even if we survived, our friendship could be shattered.

It gave me no consolation to think that Hiccup might actually say yes, if I could ask him. He seemed to value my company as much as I liked his. Would he risk all to save our bond? He had made it clear that he had no human companionship. In many ways, the village had ceased to be his home a long time ago.

The boy in question, sitting close by, picked up on none of this.

"Toothless, I must go. What if I'm missed?"

I looked at him askance. We both knew that this was unlikely. Being ignored in Berk was one of Hiccup's specialties. Besides, the ferocity of the storm ruled out any trek, at least for now. Despite his agitation, Hiccup couldn't quite fight back a yawn. It had been a very long day, and he was exhausted.

Quickly, then, I made my decision. I glanced meaningfully at the bruised sky, now such a dark blue-black that it was barely visible at the entrance of the shelter. Then I looked back to him. I snaked my tail around him, slow and deliberate.

_::Stay now.::_

I suppose my meaning must have been plain enough. His eyes grew wide.

"Here? Stay... sleep... here?"

There really was nowhere else for him to go.


	2. It always takes three

**It always takes three**

The storm had passed, and in its wake an eerie calm settled on the cove. The only sound was the random, muted splash of droplets falling from the leaves to the waterlogged ground and puddles below, a beautiful mix of timbres and pitches to my ears. A heady scent-mix, intensified by the humid air, filled my nostrils: aromatic pine resin, the sharp tang of wild garlic and the reek of stinkhorn, and all of it heavy with that overarching musky essence of a saturated Northern forest in late Spring.

Inside the shelter, it was utterly dark. Hiccup shifted slightly in his sleep, seeking warmth. As I lounged on my side, he edged into the space between my wing-joint and foreleg as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He seemed comfortable; his meagre frame was a surprisingly good fit. Absently, I realised that I would be happy to spend more time, more nights, close to my human like this.

I let my focus shift then, seeking insight from a distant memory. I could only hope that it would still be within my grasp.

I caught it. Far to the North, deep in the time of constant night. A remote islet in the Lofoten, a hidden cave, and three Furies crouch low, gathering their strength. One is still young... far too young, he thinks, to take part in this attempt. He has only just gained his adult colouring! But he also feels privileged to have been asked, and his own pride and debt of duty to his clan led him to agree immediately. He knows that he is strong. His parents are stronger still, and they are here with him now. They will show him what to do, and support him in this endeavour, as ever they have.

After all, it always takes three.

There's a fourth Fury in the cave tonight. Unconscious, she sprawls before us on the dank floor. The young female never really stood a chance when she strayed into the territory of the Skrill pair. Her physical injuries were terrible; for her to have survived at all is remarkable. Given time her scales will reform, but she will carry the heavy scars to her legs and wings for the rest of her life.

Her physical injuries are one thing. But they are not why she's here now.

The sudden attack of those Skrill had inflicted a deeper trauma on our companion, our friend. The once-bright, silvery resonance of her voice had been snatched from us. She flew with us as a wraith now, a silent shadow, present in body alone, and the whole clan grieved. Every one of us missed her conversation, her humour, her beautiful songs, just... _the company of her thoughts._ However, we had some hope. This sudden isolation, this severance, had happened to others before now, and the connection would sometimes re-establish of its own accord.

She was not entirely helpless, of course, and we gave her what succour we could. But as the months passed there was no sign of a reprieve. If anything, she became more disconnected from us, more introverted. We all knew, then, that direct action was her only hope. She knew it too, and instinctively she started to gather the ingredients for the drug that would suspend her waking mind and leave her vulnerable to our best efforts. Her family had selected mine for the attempt, and she had nodded her assent. We felt humbled and honoured by the trust they placed in us.

Just as experience told us that this action was required, was absolutely necessary, we could not escape the knowledge that it could all go terribly wrong.

Now, in the cave, my parents and I exchange final glances. It's not strictly needed - each of us can sense the others' readiness, just as I can pick up their feelings of pride and confidence in me. It is time. Closing my eyes, I start to sink down through the layers of consciousness one by one, dropping through in a careful hierarchy, just as I've been taught. The cave's environment fades and blurs, until eventually I am cocooned in a formless miasma of shifting greys. There on each side are my parents: a pair of luminous green Fury-shaped masses, vibrant and vivid, shimmering yet still tightly defined. They radiate warmth and vitality, brilliantly illuminating the grey, and I hope that I appear like this to them. Three coherent pools of light, anchoring each other in this featureless landscape.

I peer ahead, seeking our friend. I sense nothing: just the endless, swirling, colourless mist. Frowning, I narrow my focus to a tighter beam, sweeping my attention from side to side. Suddenly, just there, barely discernable... a faint greenish hue? Instantly I ramp up my sensors, zoning in hard. Yes! Separated from the fog by my gaze, her essence is there, weak but whole. Her colour reminds me of alder leaves after a hot, dry summer: dusty, glaucous, their life's work done. It is a pitiful sight. But I am elated by my achievement! I can help her now! Not thinking, acting on impulse, I rush in to make contact...

...and am instantly repulsed by a cauterising stab of pain, all the horror of the Skrill's attack, the agony of their venomous bites and the sudden terror of broken wings, compressed into a millisecond and fired straight back into my mind. I recoil, concussed, clutching desperately at my own sanity. My parents catch me as I tumble back, hold me there, give my scattered thoughts time to reassemble. I sense no anger from them, no blame or chiding. Had they made the same mistake themselves, once long ago?

It always takes three. Slowly now, calm and resolute, we approach our friend together. We probe cautiously, seeking to isolate the pain that disables her, separating the experiences and leaching them out of her one by one. We share the torment between us, then let it flare off harmlessly into the void. The process is neither easy nor predictable; the emotional tangle of a damaged Fury's mind is an uncomfortable place to explore, the paths to resolution anything but linear. But gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, her colour brightens. She begins to shed the dirty blue as the green wins out. Our task eases, and a sense of irrepressible joy starts to replace the pain. The light grows ever more quickly now as our friend starts to push from inside, heralding the final stage. She mends the last few connections unaided, and we pull back to witness the explosion of incandescence that signals her return. The four of us ride that wave of light back up and out.

The cave is still pitch dark. I have no idea if it's been hours or days since we began our attempt, although my stomach has a clear opinion on the matter. But far more important, there are now four Furies standing proudly in that cave, our companion alive again in our minds at last, and we in hers. No words pass between us: the elation is enough for now.

I let my thoughts return to the present, and I realise that I am shuddering to the echo of those far distant events. Hiccup sleeps against me still, ever trusting, at once my friend and yet so alien. And but a single Night Fury, albeit a dragon older and wiser than the youngster of memory.

I gather my strength.

* * *

><p>Others on this site have already explored the possibilities of dream states and the subconscious in HTTYD more effectively than I've managed to. I'm thinking especially of Whitefang333, Fjord Mustang and The Antic Repartee. If you don't already know these authors, you really should check out their work. It's hard not to be influenced by fine writers like these and you may spot some similar themes in what I've tried to write. I just wanted to say that I've not intentionally nicked any of their ideas.<p>

I don't own Hiccup or Toothless. They belong to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.


	3. The Shell

**The Shell**

The mist swirled once more, and I found myself in the sublimed presence of my human friend.

Hiccup's appearance was... unsettling. His colour - if you could call it that - was a sickly off-white, waxing and waning with an irregular, febrile pulse. Was this _it_? It was not a very promising start. I paced round him carefully, gauging him from every angle. All I could detect were smooth contours and an amorphous texture. There was no obvious way in.

I was puzzled. Since my parents and I helped our clanmate all those years ago, I was privileged to have met with many dragons in this nether realm, and loved the infinite variety of my encounters here. From the nervy skittishness of a Terrible Terror to a Zippleback's hard-wired schizophrenia, I thought I had seen it all. But in all that time, I never encountered a mind whose access points were not clearly signposted.

Clearly, humans were something different.

Tentatively, I set up the most basic framework of mental contacts around him, a gossamer-thin web. With that in place, I reached out, barely touching him. No response. I tried one technique, then another, but each time my mind failed to find traction, simply skittering off the even surface. Hiccup was hidden inside this strange shell, invulnerable to my gentle approaches. To stand any chance of reaching him, I would need to push harder.

I stopped right there.

It had seemed like such a workable plan. Over the years, I had become adept at restoring the pathways to speech in my kin. Where to look, how deep to go, which connections to tweak: none of these were a mystery to me. Surely I could do the same with Hiccup? My friend had shown me that human and dragon intellects were so similar in many ways; I would be into his mind and out again in no time. I just had to have confidence in my abilities, and we would both be fine. I had been wrong to worry about harming the boy.

And when he awoke, there would be no more trial and error in Hiccup's learning, no more painfully slow inching forward. Instead, I would instruct him, encourage him. The skies would quickly welcome us. My companion would love it, and I would defy my madness.

But the shell surrounding Hiccup threatened all of my hopes. Human and dragon minds weren't alike at all. I could probably break through, but I would need to be much more invasive, and I could no longer be certain of leaving him unharmed. And who knew what further strangeness dwelt within? My sense of comfortable certainty vanished, replaced with sudden flashbacks of my time with the boy.

A lovingly crafted fin and saddle, as if his whole energy, the entirety of his imagination and skill, was focussed on helping me fly again.

The way he seemed to know every good spot to scratch.

The very best fresh cod.

In a sudden moment of perfect clarity, I understood for the first time the depth of his devotion to me.

My way was clear to me then. To proceed now would be to confirm all of the humans' worst fears and prejudices against my kind, betraying my parents and clan. This was not me, not how I would wish to be remembered. I wouldn't do it. Instead, soon enough, the mania would claim me, but I would meet my end with a clear conscience, and Hiccup would be safe.

Sighing inwardly, I started to disengage, gently removing the delicate net strand by strand, careful to leave no trace. I was just about to break the final link when it happened. Completely unexpected, I felt a small tug. I paused, terrified, right on the edge of panic. Had I imagined it? After a moment's calm, I try to pull back again, and there it was once more, an immediate reaction. I tried just a little harder, and my gentle tension was exactly matched by an opposite force.

This was something outside of my experience, beyond the experience of any Fury! Too late, I realised that I had no fallback strategy, no elegant way out. I cursed my naivety, my stupid pride and arrogance, but it was no use. I was well and truly stuck.

It took just a moment for me to realise the inevitable consequence of the situation. I could not withdraw, but neither could Hiccup and I remain here like this. There was only one remaining course.

I was going in after all.

Hesitantly I reached out once more. Somehow I wasn't surprised that, this time, there was no difficulty, no resistance. The whitish outer shell dissolved to nothingness, and my human's mind was open to me at last.

I gazed about, giddy as a first-flight hatchling seeing the world newly framed beneath his wings. Here was a treasury of wonders indeed! So much experience for one so young! Here was the endless curiosity of Hiccup the inventor, constantly delighted by new discoveries. Here the expert craftsman, the artist's keen eye. And here, the tender kindness of one who saw fear in an unknown dragon's eyes and the bravery to stand by his heart's decision. This kind and generous spirit had so much to give to his fellows!

Intrigued, uncertain of my right but unable to hold back, I continued to explore. I started to adapt to the patterns of Hiccup's thoughts, his mental filekeeping. My navigation became a little clearer, my perception more acute. Unfortunately, I soon had good reason to regret my delving. With apprehension, then with a steadily growing horror, I became aware of an overarching darkness draped heavily over every positive reminiscence.

A father's disappointment, the permanent taint of failed expectation. And worse, if possible, the rejection of his peers, their endless taunts, jeers and... other things. Mindless, pointless malice, cruelty for its own sake, a panoply of suffering inflicted piecemeal and layered up over time. The boy's only defence: to shun contact, always fearing the worst. To collapse in upon himself. Just a weathered shell to the outside world... off-white... smooth contours... anonymous.

Dragons fight. We are no strangers to aggression and violence. But our motivations are always straightforward, clearly understood, and on some level, accepted. Our actions are proportionate to the situation. Here instead was the slow, unthinking destruction of a gentle spirit whose only fault was to be different. It would be abhorrent and disgusting to any of my kin.

To think these humans call themselves civilised, and _we_ the monsters!

I felt the insidious corrosion of the poison within him, felt the corruption beginning to gnaw at my senses. I fended it off, but it was hard work. Anger flared within me then, raw and brutal. In that moment I swore that Hiccup would never again be alone. Any doubts as to propriety quickly faded; I would act now to help my friend. I couldn't relieve him of the pain, at least not directly, not now; the experiences had gone on for too long, were too deeply rooted. But I could help him in other ways, and I knew just where to start. I quickly made the necessary adjustments, and withdrew.

* * *

><p>Consciousness slowly returned, but at that moment I really wished it hadn't. I had never felt so utterly drained. Two influences combined to wake me: dappled rays from the late morning sun which penetrated the shelter's entrance and played across my face; and the insistent prodding, shaking and cajoling of Hiccup. He sounded quite hoarse.<p>

"Gah! Toothless! At last!"

I groaned heavily, rolled onto my back, and blinked at him with bleary eyes. There appeared to be two of him.

"You _never_ sleep like that! I thought you were _dead_! Are you OK?"

With an almighty effort I heaved myself onto all fours and tried to focus. Panic and concern were spread more or less equally across Hiccup's face. As far as I could tell.

I nosed him gently and crooned.

"Buddy, I'm so glad you're all right, but look at the sun! I've been out all night, and now it's almost midday! I have to go, and right now! I'll be back this afternoon!"

He was right, of course. For him to be away over one stormy night away was one thing; his absence on a bright Spring morning could be quite another. And we couldn't raise suspicions, not now.

The hours that passed after Hiccup left were the longest of my life.


	4. Straight and Level

**Straight and Level**

The serried ranks of stratus and nimbus fall away beneath the young Fury as he climbs ever higher into the late evening sky. His wings are fully grown now, their membranes properly toughened, and after months of low-level training his flight muscles are strong. Despite the severity of this last test, he _will_ reach the thin airs tonight.

Everything must be timed to perfection. Efficiency is the key, and right now he's focussed on matching deep, regular breaths to each full sweep of his wings. It's traditional for the final test to be done after dark, and for this he's grateful: at night the air down low is cooler and denser, letting him take in more oxygen with each breath. It is the only concession he can expect tonight.

His two witnesses fly on either wing, invisible to his eyes in the gloom but clearly tangible in his mind. They stay well separated, sure to offer him not the slightest lift. Silently the three climb forever upward, smooth and steady, permitting no loss in altitude and no pause for recovery. The ascent has already lasted a full hour, but he knows he must conserve as much strength as he can for what is to come.

At long last he feels it, the change miniscule but distinctly _there_, and his blood thrills. As his wings start to lose their purchase on the sky, he makes the first of the stepped changes needed to continue the climb into the rarefied airs: a slight increase in the angle of attack, a subtle quickening in his wingbeats and respiration, a tiny flaring of his mid and tail fins. Now that the Thinning has started, the test will be relentless.

Ten minutes later and his wings are working about as hard and fast as he thinks they can. The strain is beginning to tell; already he's shunted most of his blood to his heart and flight muscles, and the minimal amount he's allowed his brain makes his vision blur. He's so high that the meagre atmosphere can no longer supply his needs, so he prepares to tap into the stores of oxygen-rich blood in his spleen and liver. The effect will be to give his ailing muscles a short boost, but the reserve will quickly be depleted. He must time this moment precisely to complete the test and reach his ceiling.

Surely there must be a sign soon? It will only take a moment to inspect his left wing. At last he dares to glide for a second, struggling to control the wing-tremble after his exertions. With delight and enormous relief he picks up the faintest of reflected glimmers in the starlight. The rime has started to form.

The moment is upon him. Releasing the blood store he pumps his wings with fresh vigour, sprinting all out for the finish. A small part of him notes with grim satisfaction that his companions are struggling to keep up, but there can be no hesitation now. The Rimeflight test will only be complete when an unbroken ice-trace is seen to form along the leading edges of both of his wings.

At last his reserves are spent; he has tried his utmost, and can do no more. It's time to see if he's met the mark. He ceases his crazy flapping and locks both wings at full extension, slicing through the rarefied atmosphere faster than he's ever flown before. A nervous glance to left and right, and there, incredibly, his eyes pick up the glint of ice extending in a thin but seamless line along his wing-edges from root to tip. The others join him, and for a few seconds, three gleaming pairs of perfect scimitars ride the thinnest of airs at the highest limits of endurance. Below them lies a gentler arc, the rim of the world and the ground to which they must now reluctantly return.

As the ice sublimes to vapour he begins the descent, easing his aching body into a gentle glide, allowing his muscles to begin their recovery. Below, way down there, the clan awaits. Soon there will be songs to be sung, food to be sought out, duties and responsibilities. But he thinks they'll rest lighter on his wings now. Somehow, these brief moments of exaltation have put everything into perspective.

Almost back. The air down here feels like syrup to him now, clogging and limiting. He'll want, no, he'll _need_ to ride the thin airs again soon.

It's as he nears the pinetops that he feels the change. A sudden spasm, cause unknown, a loss of control that's immediate and alien. With a jab of horror he realises that he can't stabilise the roll. Panicked, he quickly checks his wings, his mid-fin, his tail fin...

His tail fin!

The trees hurtle up to meet him. As he smashes heavily through, trying to glide despite the pain but still rolling, momentary images flash past. A strange cove's sandy floor, a shallow lake, an odd lean-to structure of... human design? The impact, right n...

* * *

><p><em>::Oh, so there you are. The famous damaged Night Fury.::<em>

The new voice penetrated from without. I raised my head from the dirt and forced my eyes to open, dismayed to realise that I'd fallen asleep while awaiting Hiccup's return. Perhaps this was the onset of the insanity at last.

Then it hit me. Someone had discovered me here!

Scrambling up, I shook off the remains of my reverie. An unknown female Fury circled over the cove, and for some reason, agitation immediately sparked inside me.

_::Who are you? Speak quickly!::_

She replied calmly in the common speech, the intonation measured and even, carrying no hint as to her clan.

_::Please, Fury, don't worry about that. There are more important things that we need to speak of, you and I.::_

I sensed that she wouldn't be swayed by any disquiet on my part. And she had the advantage of being flighted. In any case, her next words changed everything.

_::We need to talk about Hiccup.::_

_::Hiccup? What have you done to him? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?::_

Losing all self control, I let off a ragged bolt at her. She lifted a wing and the blast slid harmlessly by. She continued to circle, completely unruffled.

_::Please calm down. Hiccup is fine. But you have started something unusual here, you and your human. The connection between you has... sent out ripples, of a sort. They have not gone unnoticed.::_

It was impossible to detect either criticism or approval in her tone, merely curiosity.

_::I see that you have altered him now. You do know he may choose to repay the favour some day? If he does, I hope you'll be ready.::_

_::He has already altered me,::_ I returned, flicking my tail. _::I got over it.::_

_::Ah yes, your fin. A bit superficial in the wider scheme of things, I'm afraid. Come now, Fury. You of all dragons should know that all of the important changes happen on the inside.::_

There was no easy reply to that. Silence settled for a moment, but the strange visitor seemed in no hurry to leave. She turned a few lazy aerobatics, seeming to taunt me with the very manoeuvres I once knew and loved so well.

_::You're a strange one, Fury. You've seen by now what Hiccup has in mind for you, but if anything, your devotion to him strengthens further still! I wonder if you've even thought this through properly. If the boy succeeds, what will that make you? Half dragon, half machine, forever demeaned by these fragile contraptions? The permanent burden of a human child in the sky! Most of your kind would choose death rather than pay this price.::_

I didn't have to think about that one, and I replied in an instant.

_::I've already decided. I'll pay it gladly.::_

On hearing that, she returned immediately to level flight.

_::Actually, I was hoping you might say something like that.::_

More silence. I wondered if she was being deliberately obscure; certainly she was starting to irritate me. Perhaps she sensed it, because her next words were delivered in more genial tones.

_::You intend to speak with him. Let me ask you, then... just how do you think that will go, exactly?::_

_::Ermm... you know, it would help me tremendously if you were just a little more specific...::_

She let out an exasperated snort.

_::Oh, come on, Fury! Think about it. His kind lost the ability to speak as we do a long, long time ago. All they have now is feeble acoustics! They know nothing of the ways of the dragon clans. Worse still, all of them, and I do mean all, think that they're some kind of master species! Such blissful ignorance...::_

She became lost for a moment in her own musings.

_::The way they cultivate their conceit is really rather quaint, you know. One could make a study of it. Nasty by-products, of course... the arrogance, the constant desire to dominate... I guess we could all do without those...::_

I let out a sharp bark, trying to bring her back on topic. She resumed her argument with hardly a pause, but there was a new edge to her voice.

_::So then _**you**_ come along and bump into possibly the _**only**_ human who might be ready to see things differently. You're getting along famously, cod, scratches, tailfin, the full works. And then you decide to go rummaging around in your human's mind, flick a little switch...::_

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. She didn't have to continue, but she did anyway.

_::...and any moment now his poor, poor brain is going to be full of Night Fury this, Dragon Culture that, and For Pity's Sake Please Learn These Aerodynamics Right Now. How do you think he'll react? How would you react?::_

I hung my head, but her next words were more conciliatory.

_::Oh, don't beat yourself up, kiddo. I'm not here to give you a hard time. Well... mostly not. There are some things you've not considered. You need to understand them, and quickly.::_

OK, so I was paying attention again.

_::How long have you been grounded? Can you remember?::_

_::Erm... it's been fifteen days now, I think...::_

_::All right then. And before you arrived here, how long did you ever know a flightless dragon to keep sane?::_

_::Well...::_

_::Three days? Four, occasionally?::_

She was needling me again. _::Yeah. Four days, at most.::_

_::And yet here you are, walking and talking, and distinctly _**not**_ insane. Some sort of über-dragon, are we?::_

I was fed up with her smug questioning. Clearly she already had all of the answers.

_::Your point, please? And then, kindly leave. This hole's already taken. Go find your own.::_

_::The fabled Night Fury spirit alive and kicking, I see. Very well. By all that we know, you ought to be dead...::_

_::Thank you for summing that up.::_

_::...but something is staying your madness. The possibilities are somewhat limited.::_

I began to see where she was going. Why hadn't I thought of it before?

_::It's... it's Hiccup, isn't it? All this time together, there's some mechanism, something that's been set in motion...::_

_::It must be him, yes. Exactly what's going on is unclear, but somehow this human is protecting you. How do you feel when he's not here?::_

The stark question hit hard. I bit back my pride, deciding that honesty was my best course at this point. The words that came out surprised me, but even as I spoke them I realised them to be true.

_::Terrible. Empty. Like a part of me's been bitten off.::_

Did she blink then, falter for a moment in her flight?

_::Huh. You don't say. And it's a safe bet he feels just the same way about you. He didn't need much persuading to spend the night here, did he? Made himself right at home.::_

This also was true.

_::It seems you two have stumbled on something old, something important, to do with dragons and humans. Whatever it is, it must be allowed to play out naturally in its own fashion, its own time. You know the way of it: "Nothing forced and misunderstood...::_

_::... can ever be beautiful." Yes, I know, I know. We all know the saying.::_

_::It seems you have a little time yet, Fury. Use it to find an easier path for your human. You need to let him come to you.::_

_::I... I don't know how...::_

_::Think, dragon, think! I cannot direct you: the solution must come from within _**you**_. What are Night Furies good at? Apart from plasma bolts and ill-considered mental shenanigans, that is? You need to play to your strengths!::_

_::But...::_

_::Just do it right!::_

Something like a midsummer heat haze appeared around the strange Fury's form. Her outline blurred and shimmered, becoming fuzzy and indistinct. In a moment she was no more solid than a puff of woodsmoke blown on the wind, and an instant after that she was gone. But I had no opportunity to dwell on our encounter, as in that same moment I caught the unmistakable sound of Hiccup's footfalls on his way to the cove. He would be here in less than a minute.

The sound that should have filled me with joy instead set my mind racing with something close to panic. Think, Toothless, think! What are Night Furies good at?

Unsurpassed in flight...

The most respected of healers...

The most beautiful songs...

My friend burst into the cove, carrying the usual basket of fish. Prancing up to him, I couldn't hold back a croon of happiness. He dropped the creel and we greeted each other in our customary way, snout to palm, before his fingers slipped under my jaw, scratching lightly. The widest smile I'd ever seen spread across his face before my eyes lidded in ecstasy.

"Feeling better, huh? I missed you too bud, I missed you too. So, what first? Fish, or another go at flying on the rope? I think I'm starting to get there, really I do..."

He glanced over to where the saddle and the rest of my rig lay stowed under a clump of bracken, and as he looked away, I took my chance. I held in mind an image of my clan's favourite sea-cave nest, secret and secure, beautifully scented with ozone and sea-pinks. As the whickers of the Fury hatchlings mingled with the wave-laps, I started to sing out the lullaby we sometimes used to calm the youngsters, preparing them for sleep in the pre-dawn. Only this time it was a song without words, a melody inaudible to any ear, and a tune meant for my friend and my friend alone.

Hiccup paused, glancing uncertainly over his shoulder at me. His eyes glazed over and as his knees buckled, I let him collapse over my snout, lowering him gently to the ground. I hadn't expected it to be so quick.

_::I'm so sorry Hiccup. Just this one time, I promise...::_

And as I curled around him once more I never stopped singing the tune that distilled all of my hopes for our futures, the joy of shared flights to come, and everything that our strange partnership had come to mean to me.

And after a while, by some small miracle, hesitant and fragmentary at first, he began to sing it back to me.

_::Welcome to the world, my friend.::_

_::t... t... tooootth...::_

_::Easy, easy...::_

_::...m I dreamin?...::_

_::In a way. Stay like this for a while, if you like.::_

_::...naa... wanna fly...::_

His left leg started to twitch slightly, and I realised he was running through the different pedal positions to control my fin.

_::Oh, like this, you mean?::_

And then I let him take from me an image of two Furies darting about the sea stacks off some wild Atlantic coast. Against a backdrop of salmon-pink granite splashed with campion the dragons turned to hang suspended on the updraft with barely a twist of their wings, before folding them and dropping like stones. As one they snapped to straight and level just above the waves, skimming the crests.

This time Hiccup's reply was mumbled out loud, and his eyes began to crack apart.

"Yesss... just like that..."

_::It's closer than you think. I'd like to show you. Open your eyes, and see.::_

* * *

><p><em>::You want to do <em>**what?**_::_

"A barrel roll! I fixed the rig specially!"

_::Hiccup, the last time we tried that, you lost your breakfast. When dragons vomit it's cute. With humans... not so much.::_

"I know, I know, but I want to _try_..."

_::We are going to get very wet. Again.::_

"Toothless, you're drip-dry. And I've got spare clothes back at the cove."

_::You'll catch a cold, and then we'll be grounded. Again.::_

"Scaredy-dragon."

_::Oh right, that is _**IT!**_::_

This time we made it to fully inverted before plunging headlong into the waves.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's it at last. Hope you liked it! 'Learning Curve' finishes here, but my story 'A Dragon's Gift' is set in the same universe, and has some similar themes. It has a later time setting and focusses on Astrid and her dragon.

I borrowed (OK, stole) the mind speech formatting from FjordMustang. Thank you Fjord, and I hope you don't mind!

And *thank you* to everyone who reviewed. Your comments are so encouraging and helpful.

The dragons' maxim is from Xenophon. I'd like for you to think I discovered it by myself, but instead I must credit a friend, who happens to be a very good horserider. The full quote is apparently quite well known in classical dressage circles:

"Anything forced and misunderstood can never be beautiful. And to quote the words of Simon: If a dancer was forced to dance by whip and spikes, he would be no more beautiful than a horse trained under similar conditions."


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